


Mile High

by cromarty



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Honeymoon, M/M, Mile High Club, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 22:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cromarty/pseuds/cromarty
Summary: “Patrick?” he whispers. Patrick’s eyelashes flutter, but he doesn’t wake. David snuggles in close and runs his nose up Patrick’s sideburn and breathes on his ear. “Patrick, honey?” Still nothing. “Patrick, my beautiful, angelic husband, are you really asleep or are you fucking with me?”Or, David and Patrick join the mile high club on their honeymoon.





	Mile High

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Aly and Leslie for a quick beta. 
> 
> I wrote this almost entirely on my own flight today. The guy next to me was a very nervous flyer, and I thought seriously about asking if he would beta it for me to take his mind off things, but instead I just politely ignored him.

David stares at his husband’s delicate eyelids, his golden brown eyelashes, the slope of his brow. He is beautiful, and he is asleep, and that last bit is the most annoying thing that has happened to David all day. It had been a difficult day all around, from getting up at the actual crack of dawn to get to the airport, to handling the international airport travel experience for the first time as a coach passenger. When Patrick had told him they could afford to go to Japan for their honeymoon, David warned him he might not do well on the flight, and Patrick had just kissed his cheek and said “we’ll make a plan to handle it.”

The plan had ended up working pretty well, actually. In the airport Patrick handled everything and let David retreat into the snood of his oversized sweatshirt with his noise-cancelling headphones on. Once they were on the plane, they got through takeoff with Patrick massaging rescue remedy into David’s pulse points and whispering all of his favorite bits of their wedding day into David’s ear, until David was misty-eyed and as zen as he could possibly be while still near lots of strangers indulging in their own weird airplane rituals. That sense of calm (and lots of kissing) got them through the meal and a movie, but now Patrick has finally fallen asleep and David is bored, and starting to think about the fact that he is in a metal tube he won’t be able to escape, except in the event of imminent death, for another nine hours.

“Patrick?” he whispers. Patrick’s eyelashes flutter, but he doesn’t wake. David snuggles in close and runs his nose up Patrick’s sideburn and breathes on his ear. “Patrick, honey?” Still nothing. “Patrick, my beautiful, angelic husband, are you really asleep or are you fucking with me?”

Patrick clears his throat but doesn’t open his eyes. “David, I love you, but I am not going to be able to follow you around Tokyo if I don’t sleep at least a few hours on this plane,” he whispers, turning his head slightly to allow his cheek to connect with David’s lips. “Please, baby, just try to sleep.”

David rolls his eyes. “There is no way I’m going to be able to sleep, I’m so uncomfortable and my whole body is tense,” he whispers back. 

Patrick, eyes still determinedly closed, holds out his hand for David’s and starts massaging his palm, pushing his thumbs in firmly. David does usually love this, but right now it is just reminding how much he’d rather be anywhere else, like a bed. Patrick’s strong hands usually make him want to be horizontal. 

“Patrick,” he whispers again, feeling the smirk steal across his own face. Something about his voice must alert Patrick because he cracks one eyelid incredulously.

“Really, David? We’re in an airplane. With like 500 other people.”

“Well first of all, husband, I want you all the time, everywhere, forever, and I can’t believe you’ve forgotten since I just told you yesterday in front of our entire town.” 

Patrick opens both eyes and smiles over at him dopily. “I love you, David,” he whispers, leaning over to kiss David sweet and full. “What’s the second thing?”

It takes David a second to remember. “Secondly… it would help me relax….” he trails off suggestively and waggles his eyebrows a bit. Patrick still looks skeptical, so David nudges his nose into Patrick’s and bites his own bottom lip when he pulls back, a surefire trick to get Patrick on board. Patrick tears his eyes away from David’s mouth and groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“David, I am _not_ having sex with you in an airplane bathroom!” he whispers, half scandalized and half censorious. 

_Got him_, David thinks. “Who said anything about a bathroom, that’s disgusting, and would require at least one of us to be way more flexible. You don’t have to leave this seat to join this particular club,” he whispers, sliding closer to Patrick under the alpaca blanket they brought from the store (also a part of the David airplane comfort plan). Patrick had left the armrest up between them, so there is nothing to stop David from crowding him against the window and sliding his hand across Patrick’s joggers to test his hunch. Patrick gasps as David confirms that he is in fact more turned on by this idea than he is willing to admit. 

“David,” he warns, grabbing David’s wrist. “There are strangers two feet away!”

“Mmm, you’ll just have to try to be quiet, then,” David agrees, biting at Patrick’s earlobe. 

Patrick sucks in a deep breath and shifts in his seat, hooking a thigh up over David’s to give him better access. David smirks into the space behind Patrick’s ear and slides his hand under Patrick’s waistband, scratching lightly at the hair on his stomach. Patrick pants a bit and clenches his hands, still on the chaste, public side of the blanket.  
  
“Patrick, what if someone in this plane full of people decides to get up to go to the bathroom and sees you like this, with your husband’s hands suspiciously out of sight and your face so flushed? I mean, it’s dark, but it’s not _that_ dark, not dark enough they won’t be able to draw their own conclusions.” 

Patrick whines a bit, high and quiet, and bucks his hips. David still hasn’t even touched his cock, relying on the situation and his nails gently scratching back and forth just below Patrick’s belly button. Patrick is wearing an old, broken in “St. Joseph’s High School Musical Theatre” sweatshirt, which David had scolded was not appropriate for public, especially international travel, and between that and the blanket David can feel him radiating heat and starting to sweat. He licks at Patrick’s neck to catch some of it, and Patrick whines again. 

“David, _please_,” he moans. 

“I thought you didn’t want anyone to hear me doing this to you,” David reminds him smugly. “You’re going to have to be _much_ quieter than that or that guy in 59K is _definitely_ going to know what’s happening under this blanket.”

“David,” Patrick grinds out like it pains him, “right now there is _nothing actually_ happening under this blanket!”

David bites a little at the corner of Patrick’s jaw and relents, sliding his hand down farther so he can brush the head of Patrick’s cock with his thumb. Patrick is leaking so much he is definitely going to have to change his boxers _and_ his pants after this, and David knows for sure that Patrick’s ingrained scouting preparedness made him pack them clothes in their carry ons in case their luggage got lost, so he decides there’s absolutely no guilt on his end making his husband come in his pants, preferably as hard as possible. He starts up a torturously slow rhythm and keeps talking. 

“What if not everyone is asleep? Some people just can’t sleep on planes. What if the lady behind us you said reminded you of the nun from your elementary school is trying to read but really just listening to you, whining and panting, and imagining what I’m doing to you, how good you look? What if the guy next to her, the one you said had ‘great hair’ is listening, too? What if he’s getting hard under his tray table and trying to hide it. Maybe _he’ll_ get up to go to the bathroom, but instead of going to the one behind him he’ll come past us so he can see how good you look, with your neck all pink and your mouth open, so he can think about you when he’s jerking off in—”

“_David!_” Patrick gasps, and comes all over David’s hand, surprising them both. 

“Oh godddd,” Patrick moans quietly, curling into himself and burying his hot face in David’s neck. “I can’t believe that just happened.” 

David can’t really either. He wasn’t even stroking Patrick the way he likes, assuming he had a few more minutes of teasing he could get away with before Patrick urged him on.

“I—did you know you would like this that much?” he asks in a whisper against the top of Patrick’s head. Patrick is shaking a bit, actually, trembling from the force of what David just did, and David thinks he might die. They are _married_, they’ve been together for three years, he didn’t really think there was more to learn, or at least, not anything like _this_.

“Um, uh uh, nope, god, David, I love you _so much_,” Patrick says into the skin of his neck, and then bites down hard, above David’s collar. David hisses, and suddenly his body remembers that before the surprise there was how intensely hot his husband is, and David’s neglected cock is still straining in his drop crotch pants. He slides his hand to the outside of Patrick’s boxers and wipes it off, provoking a “David!” that would probably sound more indignant if Patrick hadn’t just lost his mind. David takes his hand back, but Patrick is already there, slipping his own hand into David’s pants.

“I can’t do what you did, baby, I don’t think my brain is working enough to talk to you,” he whispers, but David doesn’t really need more than Patrick’s hand on him, his hot breath on David’s throat, and his sweaty forehead against David’s skin.

“I don’t think I’m going to last anyway, you were so—you are the hottest man I have ever seen in my life,” David says, and Patrick laughs, but David means it the same way he meant “I do.” It’s his turn to pant and try to swallow his whines, and the fact that Patrick is sort of breathlessly chuckling in his ear and going “shhhhh, shhhhh” is actually not making him any less desperate. 

He reaches for Patrick and kisses him, hard and insistent and desperate and _forever_, he gets to have him _forever_, and that’s all it really takes, just Patrick’s tongue and his promise echoing in David’s brain, and he’s coming so hard he gasps and chokes and almost bites Patrick’s tongue.

Patrick, god does David love him, carefully pulls his hand out and slides it back into his own pants to wipe it on his already destroyed boxers and then happily goes back to kissing David, long and slow and sweet and sleepy. David sighs into the kiss, definitely feeling ready to sleep now, and starts to snuggle closer, but Patrick squirms.

“I have to get up and get my other pair of pants, David, I can’t sleep like this.” David groans at the major inconvenience, even though he definitely realizes it was entirely his fault, and lets Patrick disentangle himself and scoot past him, smirking at the pretty obvious wet spot on the front of Patrick’s light grey sweats. Well, it was _almost_ entirely his own fault, David thinks as he slides over and bunches Patrick’s stupid travel pillow between his head and the window. It’s not David’s fault that Patrick apparently has a significant unexplored semi-public sex kink. 

When Patrick gets back under the blanket and leans into David, David kisses him goodnight and whispers, “We are definitely going to try that again on the flight back.”

Patrick laughs quietly and adjusts David’s arm to his liking. “You mean you don’t think you can think of somewhere in one of the most populous cities in the world to find out if it’s just planes or if it works anywhere?”

“God, I love you, I love you so much, I can’t believe you agreed to marry me,” David groans, and Patrick laughs loudly enough that the man behind them, with great hair, leans up to say, “Can you guys keep it down? My mom is trying to sleep.”

Patrick loses at least another half hour of his precious plane sleep to shaking with silent laughter, tears streaming down his face, as David tries to quietly shush him and kiss him at the same time.


End file.
